Since there were no administrators around to call the police with me after school, I went home.
I came in the next morning, sought out our union president (a colleague in our building), informed him of the situation and my intention to call the police and report the incident. Our union president was amazed that the administration hadn’t called themselves, and infuriated that they had sent a student back to class after I evoked my right to emergency remove. He offered to sit with me when I spoke with the police if they came when he wasn’t teaching.
Thank you, Mr. Union President, for listening, for never once implying I was at fault in this situation, and for being willing to take a stand with me. I won’t ever forget that.
I called the police and requested an officer come out and take my statement. Unfortunately, when the officer checked in at the office, someone got to him and talked to him and completely distorted the situation. You’ll read below why I feel like it was impressed upon this officer during his reception that this incident stay off the record. By the time I arrived in the conference room, the cop didn’t know if he was talking to the student or the teacher. 5 minutes later, when I had finally convinced him that I WAS the teacher, the officer looked right at me and asked, “So why did you rub your butt all over a student?” It took another 15 minutes for him to understand what had ACTUALLY occurred and get the names correct, not that he wrote anything down. Because police reports don’t actually get saved anywhere apparently.
At the end of our conversation, the officer asked what I wanted to happen to the kid, considering the principal had assured him that the student had already been disclipined (HA!). I responded that I wanted to press charges. The cop basically told me no.
I could press charges if I wanted to, but it wouldn’t go anywhere. I could press charges, but since there weren’t any witnesses, it was just Assboy’s word against mine (WHAT?!). When I mentioned that witnesses were no problem, due to the number of students in the hallway at the time of the incident, the cop said that no student’s word would be considered anything but hearsay, since I had been loose-mouthed about the event. (Other than the kids in the room at the time, I hadn’t sad a word to anyone but my union president and my parents.) I could press charges, but since Assboy was a juvenile without priors, it would be dismissed and wouldn’t ever appear anywhere on his record.
I said I wanted to press charges anyway, for MY records. I was told no and the cop walked out.
Principal Hugs-A-Lot walked in and admonished me thoroughly for calling the police without notifying him of my intention to do so first. I looked him as straight in the eye as I could, from nearly a foot below him, and said, “Honestly, you shouldn’t be surprised. You should have called the police for me.” and walked past him, through the conference room door he had shut to pin me in and make me feel trapped while he scolded me like an errant child.
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Assboy’s mother spent the rest of the year slandering me to anyone who would listen. She even showed up to choir concerts to ‘support her family’ even though her ‘child wasn’t allowed to make music anymore’ (she had a nephew who didn’t assault anyone and who was allowed to remain in choir). Even worse, she told everyone that I was an inappropriate female teacher and they should guard their sons against me, because I would tempt them into doing something inappropriate and then bust them for an ‘assault’ so flimsy that the police wouldn’t even take my report. (Now, I wonder how she knew that?)
Maybe worst of all, she made a point of speaking to every member of the Choir Boosters (who had already dwindled out of anger over the money issue & the no-Disney-trip issue) and said awful things about how I was out to get her son and I got rid of him and if they weren’t careful, I’d get rid of their kids, too and ruin their reputation just like I had her son’s.
By the end of my first year, my Boosters had gone from about 10 core parents + volunteers to maybe 3. Fall of my second year, I had to personally ask individual parents to be the President & Treasurer because someone had to sign the checks for the kids’ fundraising expenses and no one had stepped forward. Years 3 & 4 consisted of phone calls & coffee with one mom, who was an accountant by day, who offered to keep the checkbook for me. She did it out of the kindness of her heart, as she’d known my family for many years through church and had heard the nasty rumors herself. When she tried to set the record straight, she was ridiculed and shunned for it. No parent was willing to get involved with the choir now, even though the students were succeeding at Solo & Ensemble, succeeding at Large Group Contest, performing in the community to only positive feedback and raised over $20,000 in my 4 years at School #1.
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Fast-forward 2 years, heading into year 4 at School #1. Assboy had finally graduated, so I didn’t have to see him leer at me every day in the hallways (which he made a point to do). It was August and I was getting married. On my way to the salon with my maid of honor, my phone BLEW up. When we arrived, I checked my messages. Half the kids in my choir were frantically calling and texting me that 2 choir alums had been in a car accident the night before.
While I was having my hair done, the calls and texts slammed my phone again. Once of the students in the accident had died. My MOH threatened to take my phone and chuck it out the window if I didn’t tell her what was going on and was obviously upsetting me.
“Remember the kid who pinned me to the wall and rubbed his butt all over me?”
“Assboy? Who could forget Assboy?! – wait, is HE calling you?”
“No, he’s dead.”
The student who had assaulted me had tried to leave a party after having FAR too much to drink. He was urged not to drive, but wouldn’t hear reason. Eventually, another alum offered to drive him home, as he had had less to drink. On the short drive home, the car crashed. The student who assaulted me had been in the passenger seat and had died as a result of his injuries.
I had to relive the assault on my wedding day. I also had to be distracted by students and staff alike sharing the news. Eventually, I called one of my core group of student leaders and asked her to spread the word to leave me alone – I was getting married. When she asked why I wasn’t upset, I told her that unfortunately, this is what can happen when people choose to drink and drive and that I didn’t have time to think about someone who had violated me on my wedding day. She immediately apologized – she had forgotten what he had done. She must have gotten the message out swiftly and firmly – I didn’t receive another message the rest of the weekend.
A week later, I was judged to by colleagues for not wanting to attend the funeral as the staff representative, as music was mentioned heavily in his obituary. I finally said, “After everything that his mother has said about me, to my face and behind my back, I don’t think that my presence at her son’s funeral will bring her any comfort.”
Actions have consequences. (Or they should.) Unfortunately, every time I have thought of this incident since, I wonder if this story would have had a different ending, had any one, at ANY time, stood up and demanded that this student take responsibility for his actions.
But not at School #1 – we just cover things up so the parents don’t get mad.
Donita Westman 